


The New Hive: Carnelian

by FangsScalesSkin



Series: The New Hive [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (sort of), Alien Biology, Body Horror, Bug Dragon Aliens (with emphasis on the 'bug'), Egg Laying, Erotic Horror, Erotica, Gradual Transformation, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Other, Oviposition, Queer Themes, Science Fiction, This is the queer transformation kink horror erotica I'm meant to write, Transformation, Trapped in quarantine turning into an alien (but make it horny), alien transformation, transformation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangsScalesSkin/pseuds/FangsScalesSkin
Summary: In the course of their work surveying a new planet for a space mining company, Carnelian is accidentally exposed to an alien infection that will change them profoundly, body and mind.Next stop: laying eggs. Lots and lots of eggs. And enjoying it so much they won't want to stop.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: The New Hive [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127537
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope people enjoy this, it has a lot of my favourite themes and kinks to write! Any additional warnings will be included in notes at the top of relevant chapters.

Cheap-ass goddamn space suit, cheap-ass corner cutting corporate Astra Minerals higher ups. The suit was supposed to be suitable for all terrains of surface for the planet exploration and survey crews, but as soon as Carnelian got planetside and stumbled and scraped the side of their boot on rocky terrain it started showing signs of strain.

They were supposed to be running a scan to confirm the presence of copper deposits underground on the unnamed planet. From orbit, the survey vessel had detected a potentially significant enough quantity of the valuable metal for Astra Minerals to set up a mining operation here. But the shitty outdated ship’s instruments meant that the readings weren’t accurate enough to send back, so someone had to confirm them at surface level. That someone was Carnelian.

Apparently the planet had a breathable atmosphere and the primary liquid was good ol’ H2O, but as if they were going to trust that. Especially when they had to splash through pools of it to get back to the pick-up site, and the boots and legs of their suit weren’t going to last many more encounters with sharp rocks. Seriously, you’d think the company could shell out for better suits. Replacing them had to be a major expense, right?

Carnelian tripped on a rocky ledge hidden in the brackish water and nearly twisted their ankle, but saved themself just in time. Their suit wasn’t so lucky, though, and that was all it needed to tear along the side of the leg, which they noticed as soon as lukewarm liquid started seeping in. They cursed. Please let it not be actually acid or have horrible parasites or some sort of flesh eating bacteria. _Please._ The medbay wasn’t equipped for that.

It was a split-second decision between continuing carefully back to the pick-up site to prevent more stress on the suit, and crashing through the liquid at high speed to reduce exposure to whatever-the-fuck was now leaking into the suit. Carnelian chose to run. You don’t fuck around with unknown substances! Space survival rule number 1!

Speed-joggling through the murky rockpools, they put their foot down hard in one that contained a bunch of round white objects that _squashed_ underfoot, exploding into purplish-white… _stuff_... Carnelian cringed. Great. 

The stuff clung to the outside of their boot when they extracted their leg from the pool and tried to shake it off. Gross. Fucking gross.

They paused to try and wash it off in the next pool - their leg hadn’t started dissolving yet, so maybe it was water sloshing about in the ends of the suit, and if it was water it was preferable to carrying gross purple goo everywhere. But they didn’t stop for too long. The priority was getting back shipside, even if the captain would be pissed Carnelian didn’t finish the scans.

As soon as they got to the clear-skied area designated as the pick-up site, they were relieved, but only kind of. They still had to wait for the shuttle after messaging the ship’s comms officer. Which might take a while, and Carnelian really wanted out of their gross suit with the nasty sloshing liquid-filled boot. On the bright side, they hadn’t choked to death despite the tear in their suit, so the planet probably did have a breathable atmosphere after all!

With good luck on their side, they wouldn’t die a slow agonising death from some horrible waterborne infection during the mandatory quarantine period once they got back ship-side. But that was if they were lucky. Exposure to the environment of a new planet was really a roulette wheel of awful the majority of the time. And Carnelian had already used up some luck on not dying the moment their suit was breached. They really didn’t like the look of that purple goo, on top of the rest, so hopefully none of _that_ had gotten in through the tear.

Once they got back on the ship and out into the airlock, they explained the situation to the crewmember there. Then it was safety shower and mandatory quarantine time, wooo. Their favourite. Once they got the space suit off, they emptied out the boot section down the drain and watched the liquid flow out. Alarm gripped them when they saw it was flecked and streaked with purple. Not good. If they had gotten any sort of tiny cut or scrape from tripping, even one they couldn’t see, it was an express ticket for that stuff to get inside their body. 

Now Carnelian’s space death roulette wheel included exposure to a potentially harmful planetary atmosphere, exposure to mystery liquid and potential mystery pathogens in the mystery liquid, _and_ exposure to mystery goo in the mystery liquid. All because Astra Minerals were too _fucking cheap_ to pay for more durable suits for the survey crews. 

Carnelian knew they were going to have to try and stay positive during their month-long quarantine, somehow. If they freaked out too much, the stress would impair their immune system, and they needed it to be able to fight off enough space garbage as it could. In case they had picked up something while planetside. 

-

Not that they were aware of it, as they slept on the bunk in the quarantine room, but they were right. It was too late for them to do anything about it, though. An infection was already spreading through their leg. They just didn't know it yet.


	2. 7 Days In Quarantine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief self-harm mention/ideation related to the main character's transformation, in day 4. To skip it, once you get to 'They only had four toes now.' skip ahead to 'What was the next best thing?'

Carnelian rolled over in the bunk and groaned when they remembered they were in the quarantine room. A month of this bullshit if they were lucky. Less than a month and an underwhelming space funeral if they were unlucky. 

At least the room was relatively comfortable if a bit small, and some unwanted books had been left in there, plus jigsaw puzzles, a beat-up old media viewing pad, and a pen and paper. Most of the crew had been through a quarantine month at some point and knew how badly it sucked. Except Steve from Maintenance who probably left the old paperbacks of his favourite fantasy epic series there so he’d have someone to talk to about them. Thanks Steve.

There was a slot in the door to pass meals in, like some old Earth maximum security prison cell. Quarantine was serious business, and it wasn’t voluntary. For good reason, too. Without a full lab analysis there was no way of knowing what was on new planets. And _everyone_ had heard the story of the star freighter that only avoided an honest to god zombie outbreak because patient zero was kept in isolation after a bite from some hostile wildlife.

Those were the kind of stories going through Carnelian’s head as they examined their right leg for signs of swelling or discolouration. Nothing so far, but on closer inspection, they had a grazed spot which stung when they poked at it. A potential entry point. The movies on that old viewing pad had better be damn good, or otherwise Carnelian would be driving themself mad with worry by the end of the day.

-

By day 2 Carnelian had decided to use the paper notebook to write down their observations on the state of their right leg. So they at least wouldn’t be guessing if it got worse. Right now there was a purplish bruise after developing around the graze, so they sketched a quick drawing in the notebook. It looked normal enough, but you could never be too careful.

Maybe they were being weird and obsessive about it, but honestly all they had to do was eat, sleep, read secondhand books, watch movies they didn’t pick out, and worry about their leg. Hopefully it was fine. Just bruised. Carnelian wasn’t much of an optimist, though. 

-

Day 3. Not good.

Their ‘bruise’ was after spreading into a big purple blotch on most of their leg, and the area around the graze was raised and stiff. That was the only way to describe it. It was like a scab except smooth. What the fuck? Was that going to happen to the rest of their leg? 

And if it did, was their leg going to necrotize or drop off? The discolouration spread to the rest of their body and then kill them? Carnelian was in full panic mode. 

When Quinn came to slide Carnelian’s breakfast and lunch through the door hatch, Carnelian beat on the door to get his attention.

“Hey, Carnelian. What’s up?” Quinn said, awkwardly, trying to peer through the hatch at them.

“Hey… There’s something wrong with my leg. Like where my suit got ripped? Any chance you could call one of the first aiders? Or let me go to the medbay?”

Quinn made a pained hissing noise from behind the door, like he was the one hurt.

“I really want to, but. I mean. I can’t. I’m really sorry Carns, I can't let you out.” He sounded really torn up about it. 

Carnelian hated to worry him, but things weren’t looking good so far. So they had wanted to at least try to get someone with medical training.

“Was worth a shot,” they said, as stoicly as they could manage.

“I’m sorry. Space survival rule number 3, you know?” 

Carnelian smiled weakly at the attempt to lighten the mood.

“‘Mandatory Quarantine is Mandatory for a reason.’ I know.”

“Yeah… Sorry again. It’s my turn on dinner duty, but I can stick around and chat with you until then? Take your mind off things a little bit.”

“Thanks Quinn. I hope that works,” Carnelian said wryly, “I have a lot on my mind.”

It did actually help keep their mind off the leg situation for the couple of hours Quinn and them were chatting. Quinn was funny and could pick up the thread of the conversation when Carnelian let it falter. Plus, he didn’t hold it against them when they accidentally got too sarcastic. He was a good friend, really.

Surprisingly they fell asleep pretty quickly that night. The chat with Quinn had snapped them out of their panic long enough to for it to metamorphose into exhaustion instead. Not that it was really very restful, because their dreams were full of confusing stuff about bugs. Like giant ants or something? Chasing Carnelian through the rockpools down on the planet below. They didn’t get a really good look because they were too busy running, but they woke up in a sweat, tangled in the covers of their bunk and flailing their legs around. 

-

It was day 4 in quarantine. As soon as Carnelian struggled awake from their dream or nightmare or whatever it was, they checked on their right leg.

It looked really, really, incredibly wrong. 

The whole thing was purple now, right up to the top of their thigh. Overnight, the lower leg had gone from a small patch of hard smooth skin to the whole thing looking like it was encased in some sort of weird armour. Like patches of platemail, or scales. Or chitin. How had they slept through their leg turning into _that?_

Their foot and toes were the same, the toes ending in clawed points. Carnelian wiggled them, feeling a sort of blank and disbelieving horror. It wasn’t like the limb was gone numb. It felt the same. It looked wrong.

They only had four toes now.

Carnelian tried to dig their fingernails in under the edge of one of the plates of chitin covering their leg, and pull it off. It _hurt._

Abandoning the attempt, Carnelian let out a curse. So, what? They had a fucked up leg now? Whatever this was, it had already spread to the top of their thigh in four days. It would probably spread further if they didn’t do anything.

Trying to think through their haze of horror, Carnelian set upon the first idea that came to mind. They looked around the room for any sort of tool to potentially amputate their leg and stop this spreading any further. Just gonna hack off their leg with a makeshift implement, no big deal. They couldn’t see anything that would even slightly work. It was almost a relief. They probably would have bled out anyway, and now that they stopped for a second to take a few deliberate deeper breaths, they decided that would be worse than a fucked up leg.

What was the next best thing? Stop it spreading, stop it spreading… They had a geology degree, for fuck’s sake. Not a medical degree. Makeshift tourniquet instead? Carnelian tore a long strip off the end of their t-shirt and tied it, as tightly as they dared, above the farthest point the purple had spread on their skin.

Afterwards they meticulously detailed the change in their leg in the notepad, together with another sketch. They were fairly certain they were in shock currently, and that was the only reason they weren’t freaking out more.

That day it was Patricia who knocked on the door and called out to say she had Carnelian’s meals. Carnelian mumbled a ‘thanks’ and sat down on the floor of the quarantine room with their meals. Eating while watching their leg, as if it was going to start moving by itself. When they were done, they slid the tray through the one-way hatch to wherever the used plates went.

Then Carnelian lay back on the floor and stared at the ceiling. That was all they had the emotional bandwidth for.

As they were lying there, Carnelian started feeling warm. Strange - all they were wearing were briefs and a t-shirt. It didn't stop, but instead got more intense, localising around where the infected leg met the rest of their body and then spreading up towards their pelvis. God, what now? 

Carnelian sat up, and with a nervous chew on their lower lip, pulled down their briefs. They watched in exhausted alarm as the purple discolouration started to creep up along their skin and past the makeshift tourniquet. It did absolutely fucking nothing. Carnelian furiously tore the tourniquet off and threw it as hard as they could against the wall.

The moment the spike of fury wore off, they started to sob and cry in fear and upset. Whatever this was, it was spreading fast, and would have taken over their entire body by the time their quarantine was over.

It wasn't _fair._ They had taken the two year contract with Astra Minerals after searching for any decent paying job that would use their degree. At the time they thought the money wasn't bad, and they could use the experience to get something better. Now they were going to either die or go wrong once this thing spread to their whole body. 

There were a lot of ways to _go wrong_ from an unknown infection in space, if it didn't kill you - losing their higher brain functions, or going feral, or craving human flesh, or joining a hivemind that absorbed their personality, or giving them weird, new, impossible to control senses, or gaining some strange instinctual drive that overpowered everything else. Every single possibility had happened to some unlucky spacefarer at some point. So many ways to go wrong.

This was on Carnelian's mind as they watched the discolouration subsume their entire leg, and then start the process of spreading towards the areas their skin was intensely warm to the touch. Up towards their right hip, and across their pelvis. All the way down their crotch.

Carnelian doubled over with a whimper at the sudden heat in their crotch. It pulsed and intensified and made them gasp. It wasn't just heat. It was _arousal._

What the fuck? 

What, they had a horny alien disease now?! 

They'd heard it was a thing but it had sounded like horny nonsense at the time. People got bored in space between ports, and they made stuff up. Sometimes it was because they hadn't brought enough jerk-off material. Carnelian had laughed and said that, last time they heard about something like this. They weren't laughing this time.

It didn't stop. It kept getting more intense, and Carnelian whimpered again as their cunt clenched around nothing. What. The. Fuck. They cupped their slit with a nervous hand, feeling the heat radiating from it. Their fingers accidentally met the slick that went with it. Carnelian pulled their hand away, breathing harshly and watching the string of slick that clung between their fingers and slit, before breaking. They were wet, too.

Even through their fear, they were vaguely tempted to slip a few fingers inside to see what it would feel like. But they didn't. It felt like a bad idea.

Carnelian picked themself up off the floor and forced themself to read in an attempt at a distraction from the heat in their cunt. It didn't work very well; they kept unconsciously rubbing their slit against the chair they were sitting on. They gave up and got ready for bed. Now they were turning into some sort of freaky thing _and_ turned on _and_ stuck in the one room for 25 more days. Fantastic!

Trying to sleep didn't go too well. They were too warm and too horny, and they tossed and turned before finally falling into a fitful slumber, full of strange dreams, tinged by their current state, some of which revolved around getting fucked by who knows what. The worst thing about it was that they never got off in any of the dreams.

Carnelian woke up just as horny as when they went to bed, and with their crotch soaked with wetness.

-

Day 5, and they were so turned on it was half maddening. It made it hard to think. Hard to feel as frightened as they should be.

It was still _scary_ but they just couldn't focus. If anything, they were annoyed that not giving in to the urge to _touch_ was taking up so much of their brain and their energy. They shifted in their chair as they tried to sketch the changes in their physiology since the day before. Their right leg was fully segmented now. The purple tinge to their skin had spread halfway up their chest overnight and begun to creep down along the top of their left thigh. 

Not that it was relevant to their notes, but their clit was fully hard and poking out from beneath the hood. It took effort not to rut against things. Carnelian had given up trying to put on a spare pair of underwear after the attempt left them whining, from the fabric pressing against their erect clit. So now they were sitting around with their whole cunt out like it was no big deal.

If this thing was making them horny, it’s probably not going to kill them, right? They hoped so. Dying horny and halfway through turning into whatever the fuck would be straight-up embarrassing. Imagine having your dead body found with your entire junk out.

In an attempt to take their mind off their burning hot slit and the temptation to rub one off, they decided to do exercises. Push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, planks, whatever they could think of. In the middle of doing a sit-up, it felt like something suddenly _shifted_ inside them, making them gasp. With it, the arousal doubled. 

Carnelian ended up sprawled on the floor, and turned over onto their front so they could grind their slit against the ground. _Fuck._ It didn’t matter what they should or shouldn’t do. They had to get off. It was too much. 

The weird shifting sensation happened again, and they let out a loud whine. Something… Something was inside them. Moving downwards. They could feel it sliding down the inside of their cunt, trying to get out. Pressing against their inner walls and making them gasp. They sat up, propping themself up on their arms and following the urge to _push._

They watched dizzily as a round white thing emerged from between their folds. There was a jolt of pleasure as it stretched open their slit. It plopped down on the ground with a wet _shlurp,_ covered in their fluids. Weird. They were too turned on to think about it any deeper than that. Especially when they felt a second one start to press down inside them. Carnelian bit their lip at the idea of their slit stretching to let it out. The pleasure that would come with it.

Their left hand went to rub at their clit almost without their conscious decision. They kept themself up on their right arm, watching and waiting for the next one to come out. When it forced its way out, they had to moan. It was weird but so, so good. 

There was another one coming. And another. Carnelian could feel the things lining up inside them. The eggs. That’s what they were. They poked the first one. It was vaguely squishy, like frog’s eggs or the eggs of some giant insect. Right now they couldn’t think hard enough about that to muster anything other than vague curiosity. There were more. They needed to get them out. To lay them. To get off.

When the fourth egg crowned, they finally came, their arm shaking as they held themself up. It was intense, and Carnelian moaned as they clenched around another egg that was still trying to get out. They pushed, forcing it closer to their slit, but their cunt kept clenching and squeezing the egg back inside them, drawing out their orgasm as they struggled to lay it. Finally the orgasm eased off, which was almost a disappointment, and the egg slid out of them to join the small pile in front of Carnelian. They panted and settled down to lay on their side on the floor, sweating and tired from exertion.

Carnelian fell asleep right there, and when they woke up their arousal had eased off to a simmer. They blinked at the pile of slime-covered eggs next to them, and hissed when they realised what happened. Those eggs looked exactly like the things Carnelian had stepped on while planetside. 

They went light-headed with fear and anger combined. They were turning into a gross egg-laying bug thing and it was all because of the rip in the shitty cheap suit their shitty cheap employer made them wear to do their shitty job. Carnelian lashed out with their fist and struck one of the eggs. It squished and popped disgustingly under the impact. A splatter of purple slime went flying through the air as it popped. Carnelian ducked. They didn’t want to get _that_ on their face.

After cleaning up, sobbing as they did so, Carnelian looked at themself in the bathroom mirror. They took off their t-shirt to get a proper look at the spread of their metamorphosis across their torso. The change had started to spread all the way to the top of their chest, the purple colour nearly to their collarbones, and their stomach had started to take on the segmented appearance of their leg, but softer when they pressed their hand against it. Still chitinous but more flexible, and they could feel their touch through it. This thing acted fast, from only a tiny amount getting in a small scratch. They had the alarmed thought that if they’d been exposed to the whole egg somehow, they’d already be one of whatever it was they were becoming.

Carnelian took the writing pad to the bathroom and did another sketch. They sketched the eggs, too, labelling the drawing with descriptions of the colours and size and solidity of the things. Plus a warning about the transformative effects. Maybe it would stop someone else getting exposed to it whenever the time came for the room to be deep cleaned…

When the knock came on the door to hand in their meals - apparently they’d missed breakfast/lunch while passed out - it was Quinn’s turn again. He tried to strike up conversation, but Carnelian put on a brave front. 

They didn’t want to worry him even worse. There was nothing he could do for them from out there. So Carnelian lied and said they’d just been bruised earlier. A lucky break.

As the conversation went on - it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes - Carnelian felt themself heating up again. Like simply talking to Quinn was stoking up their arousal. They had to cut the conversation short when they kept thinking about kissing him. Running their hands up his chest. Shoving their tongue in his mouth and hearing him moan.

It was a relief when Quinn said he’d talk to them again soon, and he hoped they’d be okay, and then left.

Carnelian put the tray of food safely on the desk and then clambered into the bunk to touch themself to the thought of their friend.

To be honest, they had been pining after Quinn a bit for a while now.

He was attractive, and their type, and he was also trans. And he was funny. And nice.

But before this they never would have dreamed of getting off thinking of him. It felt like it would have been disrespecting their friendship. 

Now all Carnelian could think of when they fingered themself was him. They closed their eyes and imagined it was his fingers inside them. The fantasy was enough to distract them from how different their belly and crotch felt under their hands. How all the hair had fallen out as their flesh changed. But it didn’t matter when they were thinking of Quinn. How it would feel to make out with him, how he might sound when they got him off.

They felt warm and happy after they came, and reality only filtered back in slowly. The happiness wore off once they opened their eyes and looked down at the chitinous purple scaling spreading up their belly. 

Oh. The bug thing. He wouldn’t want to touch them now, would he? He was a good guy, so he’d still be friends though. Even with their usual pessimism, they believed that. It was who Quinn was as a person - he wouldn’t abandon them. Touch them, though? Not so much.

They ate their dinner morosely. They were swinging between fury and fright and crying right now, able to think clearly enough to be angry and afraid while they had a period of post-nut clarity. 

Even if they survived with their mind intact, their life as it had been was effectively over. Some people wouldn’t be dicks about the alien thing, like, there were intelligent aliens in contact with humans in other far away places in the discovered universe. The kind they were becoming, though, whatever it was - they couldn’t interact with people if they were essentially a walking biohazard. They had no idea whether their saliva or anything else other than the eggs would have the same properties. If it did, then… What, would they have to wear a space suit just to touch people? Talk about fucking miserable.

Carnelian forced themself to watch a movie on the viewing pad in between obsessively going to look in the mirror and see if they were changed further. They did manage to get kind of into the movie, but lost the thread of the plot once the arousal hit again. Their belly was jutting out a little from more than the dinner they’d eaten, and they felt a shifting inside them and the first press of something in their cunt about to drop down. More eggs.

Like before the feeling was euphoric. They were so turned on that all their worries seemed unimportant. It was all Carnelian, and the eggs stretching them so wonderfully as they laid each one, and their clit that they stroked again and again until they came. The pleasure high didn’t go away with only one orgasm though. It kept going, and the eggs drove it on. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, Carnelian muzzily realised that their clit was standing erect and longer and thicker than usual. Enough that they could rut into their fist. 

That was nice. Really nice, actually. Not only how it felt, but the sight of it. There between Carnelian’s thighs like it belonged there. They stared at the tip peeking in and out of the circle of their fingers as they fucked their fist, and they smiled lazily. They’d ruled out going on hormones before because of the expense, and the fact that they weren’t particularly dysphoric about their junk, but now they had the kind of growth they couldn’t even have dreamed of. It looked and felt right.

It put them in a good enough mood that they came one or two more times before laying the last egg. They sat back to enjoy the afterglow, and breathed deep, and thought about gender euphoria coming from the weirdest places. Maybe this wasn’t entirely bad…? They could do without the buggy chitin and irresistible need to lay eggs, but the bottom growth and how hard they got off… It softened the blow a bit.

They made a note of the new and surprisingly good change in the writing pad, and went to bed that night with more mixed feelings than before. While they slept, their arousal picked up, turning their dreams into wet dreams of laying eggs and fucking and getting fucked by purple-scaled beings. Quinn was in their dreams too, but his skin had purplish patches, and when he ate them out, the colour spread and spread across his body, and he smiled up at them.

-

Day 6, and Carnelian was a little uncomfortable how much they’d enjoyed the dream with Quinn. They were a _lot_ uncomfortable when they went to look in the mirror and saw the change had spread up to their throat now, the very first streaks of it starting to creep up their neck like it was reaching towards their face. It was more frightening to imagine their face changing, than it was to see themself fully transformed from the waist down. Their face was like their identity. It was the fear of losing themself entirely.

There really was nothing they could do to stop it now, though.

They were diligent in their note-taking regardless. That felt important, no matter what happened next. For some reason their ass felt kind of tender as they sat down to update their notes, and there were aches in their back in a few places. If anything had been normal in the past week, they would have said it was nothing, but now they were hyper-aware of every single twinge and pull of their muscles. More changes were happening, and quicker than before.

As much as they were afraid of when their face might change, Carnelian was tired of feeling angry and upset and worried. Couldn’t they get all this over already? If it was going to happen anyway, it might as well not be all drawn out. This was probably one of the stages of grief. Rename “acceptance” to “resignation”. 

Well, okay, there were some parts they were enjoying. They could accept that. The bottom growth and the egg laying. And the not dying. Those parts were pretty okay. The eggs were weird, but… It felt good. Now that they were expecting them, it was less of a shock. Some people said every cloud had a silver lining, even if for Carnelian that lining was… Eggs. Carnelian thought that and laughed to themself hysterically. Maybe they were simply losing it from a combination of solitary confinement and stress and _turning into a fucking alien bug_.

When breakfast and lunch came, they ate both together and waited for the heat and arousal and urge to lay eggs to come over them again. No point starting a book or movie when they knew they were going to lose track of the plot once they were laying eggs.

Once the arousal hit, they threw themself into it, fingerfucking their wet slit until they were dripping. There went all their cares again, pushed away into the corner to make way for their cunt gripping and clenching around their fingers. They wished they could feel like that all the time. No worrying about the future. Just kneeling and moaning with their mouth wide open, waiting for the eggs and how incredible it would feel to lay them.

Carnelian came as soon as the first egg stretched them open on the way out, having already worked themself close to their peak. They threw their head back, their hips jerking involuntarily with the aftershocks, and stroked their clit, drawing out the pleasure. By the time they finished, there were two more eggs ready to emerge, jostling against each other in their cunt and stretching them wider than before. The feeling had them bent over with their forehead resting on one of their arms, panting and whining as the eggs worked their way free.

While they bent over, there was a shifting and stretching in their back, near their shoulderblades. They whined again, this time from pain, gritting their teeth as something new broke through the skin and gradually pressed out. It hurt, but it felt good, too, once the pressure abated. Painful but satisfying. The full emergence of the new limbs coincided with another orgasm. Like their body was rewarding them for making it through that.

As they laid the rest of that clutch of eggs, Carnelian could feel the new additions to their back being pumped full of blood and life, swelling up until ready to use. They were too horny to go check in the mirror right that second. Let them enjoy egg time. Sketching and being sad about no longer being human time would be later. 

Once they had come themself silly, Carnelian didn’t want to move. The new limbs were slowly moving back and forth behind them, stirring the air. As lazy as they felt, they were curious to get a look at them. Carnelian forced themself up to their feet, and stumbled into the bathroom, their clawed toes click-clicking on the floor as they went. They looked in the mirror.

Wings! Wings like a flying ant, but wings. There were strong muscles anchoring them to Carnelian’s shoulders, when they turned to check in the mirror. They fluttered them a little, watching in fascination how they moved. Please, they begged their brain, please let them enjoy having _wings_ before plunging back into fear and pessimism. Carnelian stayed looking in the mirror admiring the wings. Okay, if they could have chosen, they would have preferred feathery ones, or leathery ones like a bat or a dragon, or even more like a butterfly. Not an ant. Still pretty damn cool, though. 

Their upper back and shoulders still felt kind of sore in other spots, which they were more apprehensive about. What were _those_ going to turn into? Their lower back and ass were tender to the touch too. Were those going to swell up or something? Into a huge bug-like abdomen? That was… No, they didn’t like that idea. With that, their excitement from seeing the wings was fully punctured. They wouldn’t be able to sit or get around normally like that.

Carnelian sighed and went to get the writing pad, bringing it to the bathroom to make sketches of how their wings looked in the mirror. They really were cool to look at. But the idea of an insectile abdomen to match disturbed them. 

They wouldn’t look remotely human anymore. Humanoid, they could hope, but the rest of the ship’s crew were probably going to be disgusted to look at them even if they stood on two legs. Which mattered to Carnelian, more than they would have liked to admit before all this. Most of the crew were their friends, or at least friendly with them. These were the nineteen people they spent their waking hours with the majority of the time, chatted and joked and commiserated with. Well, except the captain, he was a humourless jackass. But they didn’t want to be rejected by the rest because they looked different now. That would hurt.

It was an aspect they hadn’t really considered before, too wrapped up in fears of survival. Now they were going to be worrying about this instead. Rejection. 

They stayed in the bathroom, staring in the mirror and studying themself from their feet up. Six days was all it took to look the way they did now, from the tiniest scratch. The chitin plating of their new exoskeleton had gotten as far as their chest now. The purple discolouration was spreading to the tops of their arms, ready to creep all the way down to their hands and change them as it went. It was all the way to the top of their throat now too. God, would the crew even know who they were after this was done? 

It was like the quarantine room was their chrysalis, and after the thirty days they were going to emerge as an unrecognisable creature. 

-

Day 7. 

When Carnelian woke up that morning, they were feeling a lot better. What were they even worrying about before? It was all going to be fine.

They looked at themself in the mirror and today they liked what they saw. The purple had spread all the way up their face overnight. It would be a shame if they lost their hair, but they were going to look cool anyway. There had to be some way to hurry the rest of the changes along. Some way of using their eggs, maybe. They’d have a think about it later. They were _excited_ to see how they were going to turn out. The wings were amazing. Whatever else was going to follow would be, too. They couldn’t wait to show off to Quinn and the rest.

Yeah, they were a bit concerned that their new look would startle the other crew members, but Carnelian could win them over. They just had to show them how good it would feel when they became like Carnelian. Then they could change them, and everyone would be happy together. The ship could make such a cosy little hive for all of them, too, with a bit of work.

They couldn’t wait to welcome the rest of the crew to the new hive.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to add more to this story, so if you liked it or had any thoughts please leave a comment! It makes me especially happy if people enjoy my original work.


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